


Lacrimae Mundi

by Gabriels_Mourning



Series: Tears of the World [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Uther Dies, mergana - Freeform, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriels_Mourning/pseuds/Gabriels_Mourning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU starting from the Hemlock Incident.  </p>
<p>Merlin can't poison Morgana, so he changes everything.  And why wouldn't you, when you're in love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacrimae Mundi

The thick hardwood doors shuddered in protest as the undead knights growled low and battered at the door, trying to get in to slay the king. Arthur’s face dripped with the water that he’d splashed in his face to rouse him. He locked eyes with Merlin, and they shared a wan smile. Everything unspoken lay between them. Acknowledged, but unspoken. The door cracked again in protest and Arthur locked eyes with his friend, giving him a slight smile.

“That your knees again?”

The young men smiled despite the situation. Arthur’s smile grew broader as he thought about it, that the two of them were always there, no matter the danger. Merlin had always been right then, either at his back or by his side. Cowering, naturally, but right beside him none the less. He firmed his lips and at that unspoken signal, they unbarred the door.

“If I need a servant in the next life?”

“Don’t ask me.”

They shared a genuine laugh then, a laugh between friends. Arthur felt something warm and comforting in that realisation of what Merlin truly was. His friend. Perhaps his only real, true friend. Not a peer, or a servant or a subordinate or anything of that nature at all. No matter the trappings of his station or the gulf that existed between them, Merlin was his friend. Somehow, across everything that had happened, which Arthur quietly admitted to himself was more a testament to the pure character of who Merlin was than anything else. He was there, as always, with his friend. Arthur drew his sword, yanked the door open and charged with a yell into the undead fray.

Merlin rebarred the door, struggling with the weight of it under the pressure of knowing that Arthur was risking his life. And the only way to save it, the only way for Merlin to save everyone he loved and admired, all of his friends and the family that had grown around him was to do what Kilgarrah had ordered him to do. The only way to entrust that Arthur would be around afterwards would be to end the curse, to kill Morgana, who was cursed. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Morgana had done nothing other than be born like Merlin. And he knew who she was. She was a kind, caring, loving soul. Defensive of the world around her, yes, but still loving.

“He’s not going to survive out there.”

“I know.”

And there it was. Arthur’s fate was to be the Once and Future King. Merlin’s was only to make that happen. This meant that Arthur had to live. No matter the cost.

“We have to do something!”

“I know.”

Good choices led to happiness, bad choices led to wisdom. What happened when you had no choice? To kill Morgana. Sacrifice someone that was as innocent in all of this as any child. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She was being punished by those around her for who she might become. What would happen had she of been given the chance to become someone different? But what ifs were no good. He cleared his mind for the task ahead. Convinced himself no to think of her eyes. Her hair. Her laugh. Her smile. His chest ached as though he’d drunk the hemlock water himself. He ached for her with every part of him.

“Here,” he said, offering her some of the cloth they had used to drag Uther.

“You tear this up. I’ll make some rope.”

He palmed the bottle of hemlock from his pocket and stared at it, feeling his aching chest fill with the dull horror of what he was about to do. He poured the bottle in, and swirled it around in his hand, absently, hearing the liquid slosh in the skin. Bad decisions, bad choices, no choices, he thought. Perhaps destiny was in for a surprise, he thought, grimly. Perhaps all the power he’d had for all this time was about changing destiny. Either his own, or Morgana’s.

“Are you going to drink that?”

Merlin turned around and stared at the woman on the ground, and slowly sank to his knees. He could almost see it. Surrounding her, holding her in place. A dark shadow of menace that clawed at her soul and held on as though she were prey trying to escape its maw. He smiled slowly, staring at her, and she blushed. The princess actually blushed at him.  It seemed completely unbelievable, given their circumstances, but it could have been as innocuous as a chat between two servants. 

“Merlin,” she smiled softly, ducking her head and turning away as her cheeks coloured. “What are you doing?” He scoffed at her words and nodded to himself.

“Yeah... What am I doing? I’m doing what no one else ever does, Morgana, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t have the time to lie. I know about Morgause.”

Morgana looked down at her bracelet and then back at Merlin, her skin lighting to pale alabaster from its cream silk in her shock.

“What...”

“I meant it, Morgana. I don’t have the time. You’re the reason everyone has fallen. She’s cursed you, the heart of Camelot. Her reasons, her own, of course. There’s only one way to break such a curse.”

He reached out to her slowly, resignedly. Morgana stared at him as his thin fingers slid along the soft skin of her neck and cupped her face. Such sadness that emanated from, such aching longing for something different than what was. Again, she blushed, and then she noticed his wet cheeks, the sharp edges glinting as his tear slide across the edge, catching the light.

“Merlin...?”

Her concern made his pain worse, and then he took a breath, staring deeply into her eyes, admitting why he’d never be able to follow through with the dragon’s plan. He smiled softly, and leant forwards to kiss her. Morgana’s eyes widened in shock before slowly closing as the soft yearning in the kiss struck her. He was gentle, far gentler than any knight had ever pawed at her. She felt suddenly lost and awed in that kiss, that he thought of her as a precious, wonderful thing came through clearly. The kiss lasted for a heartbeat, then another, and then yet another, and she still felt that sense of awed softness. Merlin pulled back and Morgana followed him, chasing his lips even as he pushed his forehead against hers, separating them. Morgana kept her eyes closed, hanging onto that soft feeling of simple adoration that she’d felt from him. Merlin breathed deeply, taking her in.

“Ġiefan sāwol.”

A sudden crack of power burst between them like a lightning strike, the shock opening the princess’s eyes, and Morgana felt herself released as though suddenly cut adrift. Merlin sagged back and collapsed, panting in pain. There was a feeling of electricity in the air for a moment, and Morgana felt gooseflesh race along her skin from her wrist where the bracelet that Morgause had given her lay. Merlin opened his eyes as he moaned in pain and his skin paled. His eyes, however, shone with magical gold. Morgana gasped and he shrugged.

“Told you... Didn’t have... time.”

She lurched forwards, holding onto him. He shook his head and snagged the water skin from the ground, draining it with a gush and throwing it away towards the wall. Morgana stared after it, and Merlin gagged, coughing suddenly.

“Hemlock.”

Morgana stared after the skin and then back at Merlin, confusion written plain on her features.

“Why, Merlin?!” He reached up and touched her cheek again.

“Morgause cursed you. I had to take it away or kill you because of it. I could never kill you, not you, Morgana. If I wasn’t born to be who I am, I’d have spent my life for you.” Morgana sobbed and gasped, holding his hand as he paled again and gagged before his breathing shattered in his chest. Morgana stared at him, and touched a finger to his lips. He smiled weakly.

“Might come as a surprise, but I’ve wanted to do that since, well, since the night I became Arthur’s servant. Wanted to tell you I have magic, too. Wanted to do so many things, Morgana... You’ll have to live my life for me now. Hope you don’t have to polish too much armour,” he joked, then coughed again. Morgana clasped his hand as his breathing rattled his chest into stillness for a moment. His eyes began to close and she sobbed again.

“Merlin, no, wait, you can’t go... you can’t leave me...” His eyelids flickered and then his clear eyes batted open and closed, trying to see as he began to lose consciousness.

“I... I was not born to live a man’s life, but to be the stuff of future memory.” His voice faded as he did, and Morgana leant down to hear him. When the tassels of her hair brushed his face, he breathed in deeply, and his rattling chest settled for a moment.

“I have often though... in the hereafter of our lives... when I owe no more to the future, and can be just a man... That we may meet, and you’ll come to me. Claim me as yours. And know that I am your husband.” He smiled weakly again, and his head fell back. “It is a dream I have...” Morgana kissed him then, fully and hard, begging him with her lips and her heart to stay with her. But he was no more than limp flesh in her arms.

“No...” she sobbed. She shook her head as the pain came to her then, in wracking sobs that wrenched her soul right up into her heart and exploded. “Nooo!” her scream echoed about the room and Morgause burst through the solid oak doors, clutching at her sword with one mailed fist and another over her chest. Her face was pained, feeling her sister’s agony. The broken spell was felling the dark knights around her like hewn grass, but still the pain that her sister was feeling rocked her. Morgana spun as Morgause came through the door, seeing Uther on the ground beside Merlin and Morgana there, her eyes golden and enraged. Morgause took in the scene before stepping forwards and swinging her sword down towards Uther’s neck. Morgana screamed wordlessly and the sword spun back, out of her hand, to shear through the solid door and explode out to the hall. Morgause stared at her.

“Sister, what...?” Morgana’s eyes blazed with power, far more power than she’d had before, awakened fully into her birthright.

“Sister...?” she clarified accusingly.  "Sister? What curse would a sister lay upon her own blood, then?” Morgause held up both hands unthreateningly and looked about them pointedly.

“Uther’s kingdom lies ready for you, Morgana. You can take your place upon his throne and...”

“I asked of you what curse would a sister lay upon her own blood. Is it true?” Morgause lifted her chin in defiance, sure in her knowledge of the Old Religion outweighing her sister’s.

“The means to an end, Morgana. You were never in any danger. Don’t forget all that I’ve done for you.” Morgana looked back at Merlin and touched his hand before straightening tall and regal, facing her sister.

“Done for me? Or to me, to fulfil your own ends?”

“Morgana, calm yourself. You’re distraught.” The princess scoffed, noticing Arthur moved around behind Morgause and shaking her head at her half-brother.

“Merlin helped me see you. He lifted the curse from me and ended it. And now you’re going to go. Leave, Morgause. We’re finished.” The blonde sorceress took an angry breath and summoned her sword from the hallway with an outstretched hand.

“You’ll rue this, Morgana. I am the only one who’s ever loved you as you truly are. I am the only one who has ever known you, and loved you for it.” Morgana let the tear grace her face as she looked down at Merlin and smiled softly at the sight of his face, peaceful and serene.

“No, Morgause. You’re wrong. I was loved with gentleness and care before you ever came with your possessive vengeance.” The sword glinted as it swung, and Morgana raised her hand, feeling the magic answering her call but the blade was not aimed at her. Arthur gave a shocked cry as his father was impaled, still asleep, and rushed forwards, swinging his sword as hard as he could. Morgause grunted in shock as the sword bit deep into her side and burned, but blasted Arthur back nonetheless. She whirled back around but Morgana was lifting her hands and the room was suddenly filled with light, as lightning arced in from the cloudless sky, shattering the window in a burst of power. It carried through the room and struck the mailed warrior full in the chest, scorching her armour as it burned through her. Morgause gulped for air which did not fill her lungs for a second, then collapsed. Morgana knelt beside Merlin once again as Arthur rolled to his feet, staring. The throne room was a mess, and Arthur sighed, feeling the wear of battle upon him.

“Morgana...?” She turned, her tear streaked face going from Uther to Merlin and back again. She brushed Merlin’s hair back away from his face and cradled his cheek to her own.

“What are we going to do. Arthur?” He shrugged in his armour as he searched for an answer to her question, and closed his eyes against the stillness and sudden horror of the throne room.

“I don’t know,” whispered the King.

* * *

**_Epilogue_**.

Morgana’s sleep was restless. She laid back, her head in Merlin’s pillow and his shirt clutched to her chest. Gaius was out busying himself with the recovering castle, though the entirety of Camelot was in a stunned silence following the death of their king. Few more grieved for Merlin. Gwen had broken down with Morgana as she described how Merlin had died, revealed his magic and his love for her all in the space of his dying breaths. Only Gwen had understood when Morgana slipped out to go to Merlin’s room. Morgana could find no peace though. Not even with Merlin’s scent surrounding her, comforting her. She felt as though something was very, very wrong, but she could only mourn for Merlin. Uther’s ghost would haunt her for some time to come, but in that moment, only Merlin did she mourn. And sleep was suddenly so very, very lonely, and filled with all the thoughts that she had never shared aloud.

_Merlin..._

She sat bolt upright in the bed, looking around, but no one was there. The deep, gravelly voice still echoed in her mind. Morgana searched the darkness but there was no one there. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Merlin’s scent filled her and comforted her, and for a moment, it felt like he was there, not doing anything, just standing there. A quiet, reassuring presence.

_Merlin..._

The draconic timbre of the voice brought her upright in bed again. She was being summoned. She grabbed at the pile of clothes on the simple chest and drew them on, shedding her night clothes for Merlin’s garb. She tied the kerchief around her hair, keeping it back out of her face and quietly moved out to the silent halls. She snuck past the guards who stared at nothing but the cards in their hands and grabbed a torch as she headed down into the depths. She didn’t know how she knew where to go, or even where she was going. She just knew she had to go. A long, deep stairwell led her to a torch lit cavern, an iron gate thrown open so long ago that the moisture in the air had rusted it over, holding it fast. There was a deep well in the centre of the vast cavern before her, and a distinctly metallic scent hung in the air, not blood, but something like it. Her pale skin was tingling up and down her arms in the air, and she rubbed the skin, scratching at it to relieve the sensation. After a moment, she turned to leave, convinced that she was fooling herself.

“That boy was so very, very strong in spirit. I never accounted for it. For all that Merlin was; his power was ever in WHO he was. Welcome, Morgana the Fey.” Morgana’s jaw tensed, and she took a deep breath as the dragon clawed up to sit on his perch opposite the doorway, coming into view as golden power.

“Kilgarrah.” The dragon inclined its head in a regal bow to her and his deep voice rumbled through the cavern.

“We have work to do, you and I.”

“You’ll not even give me time to mourn?” The dragon scoffed and waved a clawed hand.

“You’ve no need to mourn. Merlin’s destiny was ever greater than simply to die. He has work still to do. And you, Morgana. You will help him fulfil that destiny.” Morgana tilted her head at the dragon, who smiled toothily at her.

“You, Morgana, must travel to the memory which feeds the Rowan Tree. The Crystal Caves. For there you will meet one that hates you, and loves the soul within you.”

“Her name is Freya..."


End file.
